A Single Mistake
by MidnightWraith
Summary: Dr. Blowhole has one last ultimate plan. Skipper and Kowalski have been sent to wipe him out once and for all, but it starts to become increasingly impossible when they learn their good ex-agent friend is Blowhole's partner in crime. Full Summ. Inside. AU
1. Prologue

**Full Summary: Dr. Blowhole has finally resurfaced after a lengthy hiatus with one last ultimate plan. Skipper and Kowalski are dispatched by their agency to wipe him out once and for all. But when they learn that a very close friend and an ex-agent of theirs is Blowhole's partner in crime, everything becomes increasingly difficult. After tracking Blowhole down, Skipper decides that he'll take them both out, even if it means killing someone he once truly loved.  
Other Notes: This is an _Alternate Universe_ which means it doesn't happen like in the cartoon. **

**PROLOUGE**

The grays and whites of giant thunderhead clouds melded together in a perfect blend as they swirled above New York City and uncaringly drowned the never sleeping metropolis in rain. Humans and stray animals alike scurried about on the open streets, trying to find some means of cover. All except for one. He stood among one of the many empty alleyways, oblivious to the cold droplets sliding down his sleek feathers and the loose candy wrappers and plastic liquor bottles swirling around due to the stormy winds. At the end of the alley was a tall, steel door that towered over the lone animal. His eyes glinted with determination as he quietly padded up to the door. Just as he was about to knock, the door swung open with an eerie creak.

"With me, solider. Make it fast." he said quietly.

Another animal slid up to the door. He was much taller and leaner than the other was. "This looks quite suspicious, Skipper."

"It's a drop off, man, of _course_ it's going to seem suspicious. Look, I want you behind me at all times. First sign of trouble you run to home base and don't look back. Understand?" the one dubbed as Skipper ordered to his comrade.

There was a curt nod in return.

Skipper immediately took the lead and delved into the mysterious building. He was quick to survey his surroundings. The walls were white washed like a canvas of newly laid snow across a field, only marred by the occasional crack that ran up upon it. It was all held together by the colorless, thick concrete that made one's feet cold to the touch. Stacks of crates reached many feet tall pressed against the walls, and he noticed that they built small alcoves that obliviously lined up to make a pathway to a table with a lampshade swinging above it. Suddenly, Skipper heard the sound of wood scraping against concrete.

"On your toes, Kowalski. We've got company and it's more than we bargained for." Skipper whispered to the penguin flanking him from behind. "Stay alert."

"Affirmative, Skipper."

They slowly made their way father into the rather musty smelling building, trying to spot anyone who might be stupid enough to launch on them. And sure enough, it happened. There was a flash and then the shadowy outline of something zooming straight towards them at a tremendous speed.

"Fish and chips, man! We're taking fire! Eagle Drill maneuver _now_!" Skipper yelled.

Kowalski hopped up onto Skipper's back and propelled him self into the air, delivering two swift kicks to the attacker's face, sending it far across the room and into the wall with a satisfying thud. He landed in a perfect horse stance, preparing himself for any more rouge attackers that may be hiding. Skipper closed the gap between them, making them back-to-back with a clear view of the room. "Kowalski…" he said.

"I'm not leaving." came the simply reply.

Another wave of animals appeared. Pigeons and blue jays and tabby cats and rats… they made a broken semi-circle to successfully block the only way of leaving: the door. Skipper thought he heard the sound of a low grumble, but he didn't have time to process it as the animals leapt from their spots and unleashed a flurry of claws and talons on the unsuspecting birds.

He uppercut the grey tabby rearing up on its hind legs, knocking it back into a squawking blue jay. He pivoted around and kicked an unsuspecting rat in the jaw and out of the way. But it did little to thin the ever-growing mass. Paws grabbed and pulled at him from every which way. Suddenly, Skipper heard a growl. In a mere moment, he could feel two perfectly sharp canines sink into his chest and push father into him. His breathed hitched and his vision flickered. He could hear a faint cry from Kowalski, but it was _so_ far away. Too far away.

"_¡Alto_, _alto!_" a deep baritone voice said with a slight chuckle, bringing him back to the present world. "Stop now! That is no way to treat our guests, the _pingüinos_." The animals looked up, wide-eyed at the speaker and detached as they were ordered, backing off from the penguins.

Skipper woozily stood from where he had been knocked down onto the floor. His head pounded and blood languidly appeared from the small cuts covering his entire body and the two gaping holes on his feathery chest. Shakily pulling up Kowalski, he turned a 180 to stare right into the eyes of the one obviously in charge. The recognition was immediate. "You… Antonio." he spat.

"Aha, yes, _me_. It fills me with much joy that you remembered!" was the reply. 'Antonio' was a dark-brown furred otter whom spoke with a thick and authentic Spanish accent. His eyes were a deep emerald green and he had a coal black nose and black paws. "But I could have sworn that you had been much better at fighting and anticipating back then. Perhaps-"

"We aren't here for your pleasantries. Where's the file, mammal?" Skipper grunted, his aches growing more taxing by the minute.

Antonio sighed while lazily inspecting his paw. He looked up at Skipper and then pulled out a manila envelope from behind him. "Now, _pingüino_, before I hand you this file, you must know… _el científico loco… _he knows of you and your smart friend's mission. He will come after you. And as much as I despise you both, you are my number one clients. It would be sad to see such _valuable_ resources to go to… waste…" the otter smiled slyly.

Kowalski carefully took the folder from Antonio and held it close to him. "Um… thanks …"

"C'mon, let's go." Skipper spoke quietly, his eyes still focused on Antonio's smirking features. Kowalski nodded sharply and the pair of penguins turned away and hurriedly marched out of the building, out into the numbing, cold rain.

* * *

The flightless birds waddled up to the building. Colored lights flashed from the windows and the ground seemed to shake in a timely beat. Flanking the door were two animals: a broad shouldered dark grey lemur and a stocky, tough looking penguin with a slick mohawk spinning around a flashlight. "Hey Rico," Kowalski said to the penguin, giving him a friendly fist bump. Rico grunted in reply.

Skipper scowled and focused his attention at the lemur, "So how packed is it tonight, Maurice?"

"Oh, it's just Julien playing loud music again." Maurice rolled his eyes and sighed, "Max might be in there, but I doubt it."

"Yeah, thanks." Skipper nodded and curtly pulled Kowalski into the club building.

Just as they had been told, no one was there. Tables were completely devoid of life and littered with pint glasses still half-full of liquor or mango juice. The music made Skipper want to turn right around and leave the dump, it was so loud and irritating... He briskly walked up to the dance floor and slammed his fist on the stereo. The music immediately died and Skipper smiled, on the inside.

"'Ey! What is wrong with you? What have you been doing to my boomy-box, you stupid penguin?" a tall and skinny lemur ran up to them and yelled in a very strange Islander accent. "Ugh, I should have never allowed you to stay here."

This was Julien, or as he preferred to be called, King Julien, and he was the owner of the very exclusive club. Not only that, he sometimes doubled as the bartender or the disc jockey. Skipper and Kowalski crashed here most of the time, in addition to a few other animals.

"You're keeping everyone in a mile's radius awake, ring tail!"

"Oh, whatever. It should be locking up time anyways." Julien rolled his eyes in annoyance before stalking off into the living quarters.

Skipper and Kowalski followed suit a moment later, making their way to the end of the hallway. The taller penguin tentatively knocked on the door that had an "Animal crossing" sign slapped across it. "… Private?" he called.

Behind the door was the rustling of paper and thump or two before everything went eerily silent. "Come in."

Kowalski pushed the door open. A small penguin sat on the bottom of a bunk bed holding a colorfully bright picture book that seemed to be teaching the reader how to count. He looked up at Kowalski and gave a slight smile. "Hello K'walski," he said in a smooth British accent that most found adorable, "and Skipper. I never get much company from you two. What brings you here?"

Skipper breezed through the doorway, "Got into a scrape, Private. You think you could patch us up?"

"'Course I can. Here, sit down." Private hopped down from his place and crouched to look under the bed. He pushed aside a few stray dust bunnies, pulled out a worn looking medical kit, and popped back up to tend to Kowalski. He popped the top to reveal a wide arrangement of human-made medical equipment. Dipping a cotton ball in a bottle of hydro peroxide, he vigorously rubbed it on a cut above Kowalski's beak that spanned across his entire face. "So what'd you two do to get into this?" he said with a small laugh.

Skipper stared at him. This penguin, so young, always curious about their missions. He found it cute. It showed the possibility that the kid could be military material, with someone strong and strict to shape him up, of course. "Completely classified, Private." he said mundanely.

There was a sigh. "I wish I could go on missions like you and K'walski… it's not fair. I want to go on an adventure for once. I don't want to be stuck here forever." he shook his head, his cheery smile turning into a dreary frown.

Kowalski spoke up when Private was done putting a bandage on his face, "But Private! You do a good job here at home for us. I mean, you've got to be the best medic penguin around."

"Yeah… I suppose that's true." Private sighed once more, returning to his work. There room was thick with a suffocating silence. He moved sideways to look at Skipper. "Oh! Skipper! This is… this is probably going to hurt." he said uneasily.

Private returned to the kit and fished out a faded turquoise washrag. He rolled it to make it long and thick and drenched it in the awaiting rubbing alcohol. He slapped it onto Skipper's chest, earning a deep hiss from the commando penguin, and rubbed the two puncture wounds clean. "Sorry, Skipper. Sorry, sir." he muttered with each cry from his patient. Producing a roll of gauze from the medical kit, he began to circle Skipper, wrapping him tightly with the dressing. Kowalski watched with interest.

A soon as Private had apologized for the thousandth time, the trio waddled to the threshold. Skipper and Kowalski walked out into the hallway.

"Don't do anything too rash. Your cuts might open up again." the Private murmured, gently shutting the door in their faces.

* * *

The room was dimly lit by a swinging lampshade that hung over two sturdy wooden desks, a bunk bed, and a crate with a television and VCR/DVD player stacked up on it. There were posters passionlessly plastered on the wooden walls that reveal scarred up scowls of various species of animals, 'WANTED' clearly stamped over them in red ink. Both penguins, Skipper and Kowalski, sat at the tables with blank expressions. The manila envelope sat in front of them.

"You're going to have to open it sometime or…" Kowalski said, trailing off as he saw the leader penguin throw a death glare his way.

Skipper sighed and clamped his eyes shut. "Yeah, soldier. It's just… who knows what's in here. All the dark and twisted secrets…" he shook his head, snorting. "Look at me. Blubbering! Kowalski, open it."

Kowalski flipped open the folder. He took all of the loose parchments spreading them neatly across the table so he and Skipper could both inspect them. High quality pictures, mug shots, detailed reports… it was a mother load.

"Look at this one…" Kowalski mumbled. He began to read it aloud:

**May 26****th****, 2003. London, England. Lieutenant Abel's Record Book.**

_"I'm here at the scene of the crime, the charred rubble of the Mullard Science Institute. The humans put out the fire last night, and my team and I have been sent in to do some damage assessment. It seems that this fire was no accident. There are traces of accelerant are everywhere. We also believe that a set of blueprints and possibly a research file from the biological lab was taken, but it has yet to be confirmed, and we are not sure if we will ever be able to confirm it. If that should be the case, a higher ranked team could possibly have to come in, instead."_

Skipper nodded, thoughtfully rubbing his beak. "Hm… what's that one say, Kowalski?" he pointed to a yellowing, stained piece of paper. It was written in big, fat, calligraphy-like letters.

Kowalski picked it up, squinting at it.

"**Major General Sarge Bell's Log. Final Report. **

**February 10****th****, 2004.**

_"It was definitely an assassination. Any animal with a two-bit brain could figure that out. But the way it was done was astonishing. A tiny, almost undetectable needle. Just stuck in their paws. The Ambassadors must've shook hands with the cretin that did this, but that's just my speculation. I think I know whodunit, too. Blowhole. He's been real famous 'round these parts, makin' himself a name. I don't like it. But I'm gonna have to leave all this up to the Investigative Services…"_

Kowalski kept reading. The both of them sat there for hours, their eyes bleary from so much scrutiny, sifting though the countless papers. Skipper yawned and gave a sideways glance at his partner, who was gently swaying this way and that.

"Status report, soldier." he said, thinking that maybe stimulating Kowalski's brain cells would keep him awake.

The taller penguin rubbed his eyes, sighed, and turned to face Skipper with his clipboard in hand. "Well, let's see." he leafed through a few pages. "In 2003, Blowhole was deemed responsible for burning down Mullard Science Institute and stealing files, then for robbing a vault in a small Vancouver report base, and other very minor felonies. In 2004, he was charged with slaughtering and disbanding the P.I.S.U…"

"P.I.S.U?" Skipper inquired.

"Primary Investigative Services Unit. It was an animal-run organization, of course, that would send out officers and medical assistants and things like that to other agencies working murder cases, thefts, etc. Anyways, along with that, he may have possibly killed two very important Ambassadors and a few humans in the process. Then he disappeared… until early 2006. He was found positively guilty for another assassination of a high-ranking authority, General Thunder Thompson. He was later sighted in Paris along with an supposed accomplice. Blowhole has stayed low-profile until December 2009, where he..." Kowalski blinked.

"What is it?"

Kowalski shook his head slowly, "I had no idea… it seems that Blowhole is responsible for destroying the Antarctic Intelligence Base!"

Skipper's eyes popped open, bloodshot, "AIB? That _lowlife_ is the one that disbanded it? Why weren't we told?"

Kowalski pushed his clipboard to the far side of the table and frantically combing through the piles of paper and photographs. His beak curled downwards and he held up a white piece of copying paper, the words neatly typed. He cleared his throat. "… a messenger crane entered the Base in the morning, only to find all the receptionists on the first floor not breathing. He ran up the stairs, but found it filled with the dead bodies of workers there, too. He then proceeded to the other two floors and found the same thing. The crane fled outside to get help. When that help did come, it was also discovered that the head of the Base had been ruthlessly killed…"

"How?" Skipper said urgency threaded though his voice.

"It… it says by poisonous gas, save for the President… who was stabbed 37 times." Kowalski shuddered and shoved the report into his friend's arms. "You read it."

Skipper quickly skimmed through the record, his eyes darting furtively. He had had _acquaintances _back at AIB. "'_… bits of DNA were found to confirm a 'Doctor J. Blowhole' responsible for the crime. There were also pictures, captured from security cameras, of the suspect in question and an unknown accomplice._' Kowalski? Do we have a visual of this alleged accomplice?"

Kowalski lifted a few papers before snatching the picture and holding it up to Skipper.

It was grainy, static-like. Yet, you could still make out the bulking form of what was an older-than-he-remembered Blowhole, and brown blob trailing behind him. It had two ears, two eyes, a tail, and four paws… all of them brown. Except for one. It was white, pure white.

And it dawned on him.

"Skipper!" Kowalski said, quite alarmed, "Doesn't it look like… like _her_?"

**END PROLOUGE**

**Author's Note:**** I know what you're thinking… "Skipper, Kowalski, Private, and Rico aren't a TEAM? OHEMGEEWHUT?" or something like that. But keep on reading, it could change. So did you enjoy it? Review if you'd like.**


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

Weak, pale yellow sun rays shyly peeked above the windowsill of the penguins' small abode, casting a faint glow across half of the room and its furniture. The leader penguin, Skipper, sat at the mahogany table nonchalantly sipping at his cup of 'special' coffee. A fish tail flopped back and forth over the rim. Kowalski sat across from him, his flippers crossed and head bent over slightly. Skipper sighed and stared at the window with the terrible view of the near-crumbling building across the street. His chest felt tight and his eyes burned fiercely, red-rimmed.

Skipper's mind flashed back to the previous night and he could feel his eyes sting again and his head pound harder. It couldn't have been her. They may have had their differences, but… she would never do something this stupid.

_Would she? You obviously didn't know her very well._

He launched out of his chair at the thought and slammed his coffee cup onto the table, making the fishtail slosh out of the mug.

Kowalski's head shot up, bewilderment etched into his face. "Wh-what? Did something happen Skipper?"

"No, nothing happened, Kowalski, which is what I am concerned about. It's already 0700 and we still don't have the beginning of a battle strategy!" Skipper griped, staring down at his comrade.

Kowalski blinked rapidly, attempting to rid the sleep from his eyes, "Skipper, sir, I know you're upset about last night." he began, "But-"

Skipper cut him off abruptly, his face darkening as he glared at the other penguin. "I don't want to hear, it Kowalski."

"Look! You cannot live in denial forever, Skipper. It's not healthy!"

"Kowalski, this sort of insubordination is strange, even for you! Now. Tell me where Blowhole's last whereabouts are. That's an order." Skipper growled, his flippers crossed firmly over his feathery chest.

Kowalski muttered something cross under his breath and snatched his clipboard from where it rested a few inches away. "Dr. Blowhole's last known location was in Paris, France." he replied with reluctance.

"Paris, eh? That's interesting." Skipper replied thoughtfully, taking a seat back at the table. "Far away, too."

"Three-thousand six hundred twenty four miles, to be exact, Skipper. Also, this sighting was ten months ago. Blowhole most likely moved somewhere else far away and extremely discreet by now."

Skipper sighed and glanced out the window behind Kowalski. The other penguin was right, Blowhole could be anywhere in the world by now. This was slowly becoming more impossible. "But it's our last lead. We need to go to Paris." He looked at Kowalski who looked like his mind was processing things at a million miles a minute. "What is it, soldier?"

"We could contact our boss, Skipper! Maybe he could send some experienced trackers and analyzers to look at this stuff and even go with us to Paris!" Kowalski exclaimed, a smile broadening on his face.

The shorter penguin nodded slowly before pushing away from the table and standing up. He tossed the fishtail into the trashcan by the television. "Alright, Kowalski. Let's go call General Rawhide."

* * *

Skipper and Kowalski trounced down the hallway and opened the door that led straight into the club owned by Julien. The tables that had been cluttered with empty cups and trash the night before were now wiped clean, probably by the tiny mouse lemur, Mort. The music hummed a low and quiet tune from the DJ's station. Julien, along with Maurice and Rico, sat behind the bar mixing together drinks and talking amongst themselves.

Julien perked up when he saw the two penguins, "Oh! Hello neighbors!" he yelled cheerfully.

"Hey, ringtail." Skipper replied casually, despite already being annoyed by Julien's overly bright attitude. "Is the phone working today?"

"Ehh, yeah. I am thinking so. It's in the back room." the lemur said, gesturing to the door located just by the end of the bar. "Just do not be calling the long of distance! That is a lot of monies to be costing, ya know?"

Kowalski took a deep breath, about to protest that Julien didn't pay anything, but was dragged away by Skipper before he could start a big, time consuming debate. As they entered the back room, the temperature dropped a few degrees. The room had barrels and crates of numerous sizes. In the corner, a cell phone sat upright, the LCD screen was cracked, reading "6:49 AM". They flipped it open and pushed it on the ground. Kowalski recited the number of the agency off and Skipper punched the buttons with his flippers.

Four operators and one sobbing secretary, the voice of the head honcho resonated from the speakers. _"General Rawhide speaking. State your credentials."_

Clearing his throat, Skipper spoke, "General Rawhide, sir. This is Skipper, Agent 0019 located in the New York City area."

The tapping of keys could be heard on the other side of the phone. _"Ah, Skipper. It's been a while, hasn't it?"_

"Yessir, it has. But this isn't a call for catching up. I'm afraid we have a problem."

"_A problem, eh? What is it?"_

"Myself and my general lieutenant were dispatched out to find and rid of a villainous cretin known as Doctor J. Blowhole."

The general chuckled heartily, _"I know that! I am the one who sent you out on that mission in the first place."_

"Right, sir." Skipper cleared his throat again and rubbed his flippers together. "We found a lot of intelligence on Blowhole from an informant of ours. We know that his last known whereabouts were in Paris, France. What I'm asking is if you would send us an analyzer, maybe even a tracker to help us catch him."

"_A tracker? You've got a last known location! Whatcha need one of those for, boy?"_

"That was ten months ago, sir. You know as well as I do that it's highly unlikely that the rotten creep is still there. A tracker could help us find him a lot quicker!" Skipper retorted, glaring at the phone's screen.

General Rawhide sighed, making a loud, crackling interference come through the cell phone's speaker. _"I wish I could help, Skipper, but there's no one good enough I could send out. They're all out on important business."_

"You're the leader of our agency; you can _move _anyone you want to, sir!" Skipper said, his voice raising a few decibels. Kowalski cringed slightly. "And this mission is important, too. Blowhole is extremely dangerous. He's a killer!"

"_Don't raise your voice at your boss. Now the best I can do for you is transportation to London. You'll have to get to Paris on your own. But that's it."_

Skipper bowed his head, trying to calm himself down and not shout at General Rawhide. "You can't even send us an analyzer?"

"_Sorry, Skipper. You call me again when you're ready for London. The direct extension to my office is 446. I'll be waiting for your call, son."_ There was a click on the other side, then the sound of a dial tone.

The flat-headed penguin wheeled around to face Kowalski. "You wrote that down, right?"

* * *

By the time the two penguins sauntered out of the back room, a few customers had come in. Two regulars, Max the cat and his fiancée, sat at the bar happily downing their round of drinks. Another animal Skipper had only seen once, a squirrel with an eye patch, stood by the DJ's table talking with Maurice. Skipper and Kowalski walked past the bar and to one of the tables on the other side of the building. They yelled at Julien for their usual drinks and then the table fell into a lapsing silence. Ten minutes later, a pipsqueak of animal came rushing up to the table with a trey that held their drinks upon its head.

"Hiii!" it said.

"Hello, Mort." Kowalski replied, taking the two tall glasses off the trey.

The lemur dubbed as Mort looked up at the penguins with his giant yellow eyes. "Thank you at shopping at King Julien's bar!"

"Yeah. Put it on my tab, kid." said Skipper, frowning. The lemur screamed something in his squeaky voice again before skipping off to find the other lemurs. The table became consumed by stillness once more.

Skipper was angry. He had always respected General Rawhide, an understanding yet firm leader. Sending out one measly analyzer should not have been such a problem. It didn't sit right with him. Why was Rawhide so reluctant to help? Kowalski's voice lugged him from his thoughts.

"Skipper, I was thinking…" Kowalski began hesitantly, "We should go to Paris. And bring our own recruits. I already know the perfect candidates!"

"Biscuits and gravy, Kowalski! Are you mad? We can't take anyone unauthorized with us on this mission. And what's to say they get killed? It would be on our heads."

Kowalski rolled his eyes and sighed inwardly. He stared at his friend, "Just bear with me, Skipper. All right, yes, you're right. If we take anyone unauthorized and untrained, it could cause some serious consequences. But how do you propose we do this alone? You act high and mighty and invincible, Skipper, but you aren't. We'll need help if we even want a sliver of a chance to take out Blowhole once and for all."

The table fell quiet again.

"Skipper?"

"I'm going to have to see these recruits you have in mind before I decide anything, soldier." Skipper said shortly.

* * *

"Alright, Kowalski. Where's the fresh meat?"

"Meat at 2 o'clock, sir."

The actual time was 4:30 PM. Harsh, numbing rain swept across the city, unforgiving. Because of the dreary weather, many animals who wouldn't be there for several more hours rushed in for cover from the rain. The club was more than half-full, now. They drowned their sorrows with whatever Julien made them, and they happily paid him to make more.

Skipper slowly turned to where Kowalski's choice of recruit should be. Propped up against the wall, a penguin a bit taller than himself stood. He held a flashlight, his expression looking as if he was about to clobber anyone at any moment. Beside him was pint size penguin slurping up a soda.

"_Rico and Private_?" The leader asked raising his brow. "Are you mad Kowalski?"

"They're perfect for the job, Skipper! Don't be blind. Rico can swallow and regurgitate anything you give him! He has a desire for danger, he's insane. And Private. You heard him yesterday. Private wants to go out into the world and do something worthwhile."

"Rico might be able to hold his own, but Private? He's a little one! He can't fight."

"You don't know that. But honestly, Skipper, what other choice is there? Do you really want to go out and find some criminal with a big army that will one day come to collect a favor from us? Stop being stubborn and let's go talk to them."

**%**

Skipper cupped his flippers over their beaks and pushed them into the back room of the club with ease. Kowalski shut the door behind them, consuming the room with a chilling darkness. Skipper released his grip and nudged the two protesting penguins to the wall.

"Skipper! What in the world are you doing?" Private exclaimed.

"Yeah!" Rico cried, glaring at the flat-headed penguin.

The leader penguin cleared his throat and glanced at the two penguins, "Simmer down, boys. I've brought you here today because I have a proposition for both of you to consider. It's very important that you listen," Skipper glanced at Rico, "and then tell us what you think. Kowalski?"

The taller penguin nodded. "As you may or may have not guessed, we work for an extremely top secret agency. Recently, we have been assigned a case to seek out and apprehend a tremendously dangerous convict/murderer/thief/super villain. Unfortunately, our agency will not provide us aid in capturing this heinous cretin. Therefore, we wish to acquire your help in bringing said villain down once and for all."

"So… what you're saying is that you and Skipper want our help in catching a super criminal? Me and Rico?" Private exclaimed in shock.

"Precisely, young Private." Skipper said. "Now, we need an answer ASAP, boys. What's it gonna be?"

Private clapped his flippers together happily, twirling in a circle, "Finally! Yes, Skipper, yes! I want to go without a doubt. And Rico, too, right?"

There was no answer. The three other penguins turned to Rico. The mohawk-ed penguin frowned at them. He started shouting unrecognizable words, flailing his feathery flippers at them.

Private titled his head, "I think he's saying that this is all very sudden and that Julien might not let him leave because he's a bouncer here."

"If I take care of Julien, would you be willing to go, Rico?" Skipper said with a slight chuckle.

"Yeah, yeah!" Rico barked, his tongue spilling out of his beak in a sloppy smile. "Adventure time! KABOOM!"

"Good. Then it's settled. Both of you go and pack up and bring _only _the essentials! Kowalski and I will fill you in tomorrow on the entire. We leave at 0500 hours." Skipper ordered, "Get moving!"

The two penguins nodded and marched out of the room. Skipper sighed as he watched them go. He turned to Kowalski. "Can we trust them?"

"Can we afford not to?"

**END CHAPTER 1**

**Author's Note:**** God, I hate this chapter. It's just a bunch of talking and filler and annoying out of character-ness and I'm sorry I'm even posting it, but I didn't want to wait any longer. I hope the next chapter will actually have some action and possibly some butt-kicking. Once again, I apologize. Review if you liked it, constructive criticism if you did not.**


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